‘No,’ she agrees.
‘How come you’ve never mentioned it? How many weddings do you do?’
‘Shhhhh.’
Oh, yes. I see her point. If you aren’t involved in your friends’ wedding it’s clearly awkward to mention that you have a wedding-related side hustle.
‘Sorry,’ I whisper. ‘But wow. Cool job?’
‘Very cool. A lot better than accountancy, which I’m not saying is bad, because it isn’t and loads of people love it, but isn’t really for me. And to answer your questions: I do maybe twenty weddings a year; and I’ve never mentioned it because—’ she looks at me a little oddly, her head slightly tilted and her eyebrows up a bit ‘—we really hardly know each other.’
For some reason, which I cannot immediately put my finger on, her words make me sit back, like I’ve been almost physically struck.
She’s right, of course. We do barely know each other.
I nod. ‘True.’
And that seems to be the end of that conversation. I have nothing else to say now, even though a minute ago I had a lot of questions about the wedding singer thing, and Nadia evidently doesn’t think we’re still chatting because she’s moved her chair slightly and is clapping and swaying to the music.
Karaoke makes for a great wedding reception. It’s fun. It’s noisy. It’s interactive. It really is good.
Except I don’t like sitting next to Nadia like this any more because somehow it feels as though a barrier has sprung up between us. I keep noticing it, but I don’t want to, because I don’t want to analyse it.
A lot of singing later, some people are dancing in a space they’ve made at the end of the table, while others are still sitting, which, as Carole points out, is handy for Nadia.
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask. The painkillers have probably worn off by now.
‘Fine, thank you.’ Her face looks a little pale. ‘I think I’ll make a move, though, soonish. Maybe in about half an hour so it doesn’t seem too early. I have my eye on the door; I don’t want to be the first to leave but I think I might definitely be the second.’
‘I’m thinking there’s no shame in being the first. Someone’s got to be.’ I pull my phone out of my pocket. ‘And I’d like to go now too. So why don’t I get us an Uber?’
‘I don’t want to be the first to break the party up, though. The domino-effect thing. I don’t want other people to copy us and leave too and ruin the wedding-party vibe.’
‘It’ll be fine if we go quietly. People will just think we’ve gone to the loo. Let’s have a chat with Bea and Ruth when they get to our table—’ I can see them two tables away, clearly trying to get round all their guests ‘—and we’ll tell them we’re leaving quite soon, and then we’ll just sidle out.’
‘That’s actually very tempting.’
‘Why don’t I go and let Carole know as well—’ Carole’s displaying some fairly outrageous moves on the dance floor ‘—so that we can get going as soon as we’ve said goodbye to Bea and Ruth?’
* * *
Our Uber driver is very chatty and very keen to hear details about the wedding, so Nadia and I aren’t alone together until we get to the station.
‘So. Many. Fecking. Steps,’ she says, glaring at the big flight down in front of us.
‘I know you don’t want to be carried, but the next train’s in three minutes.’
‘Yes. Fine.’ She looks sideways at me. ‘That might have sounded a teensy bit grumpy.’
‘Not at all,’ I lie.
She laughs. ‘What I mean is, thank you and I’m very, very grateful for all your help today.’
And just like that, it seems the most natural thing in the world to lift her and carry her down the steps and onto the train that’s just pulling in.
‘I’m going to go straight to A&E from Clapham Junction,’ Nadia says as soon as we’re seated.
‘Good. That has to be the best idea. Can I come with you?’
